Jealousy
by shoreside
Summary: Takes place after One Day, One Room. Will focus mostly on Cameron and House. It will probably go significantly off canon early on so please don't read if that's not your cup of tea. Rated Teen for language and adult situations.
1. Sunshine has left the building

_We are all wounded, all broken. Some of us, like House, are lucky because our wounds are on the outside for all to see. His leg gives House an excuse to be a bastard and makes the rest of us put up with things that we shouldn't. Then there are those that are wounded on the inside. To make matters worse, there are people, like me, who look so great on the outside, exactly the type of person that society idealizes (thin, pretty, successful), that no one ever guesses that we're just as wounded as that wheelchair-bound man. We can only keep up the façade so long, however… sooner or later it catches up to us and we crumble._

_Allison, Wednesday_

She looked over what she had typed on the screen with a critical eye. 'Allie, honey, it's a good thing you became a doctor and not a journalist. You just don't have it.' Wearily, she rubbed her eyes and contemplated moving but it seemed like too much effort. Still, she didn't particularly want to spend the night at the hospital. She wanted to go home, to silence and orderliness, where she wouldn't be disturbed by people dying or…

Too late. The person with the cane had found her.

"Get tired of playing table hockey with Wilson?" she asked, not removing her hands from her face.

"Get tired of watching people die?" He leaned over her and she could smell a lingering scent of cherry candy. All of a sudden she realized that he was reading the words on her laptop, and she abruptly closed it, just missing his nose.

"God, House, no one really has any privacy when you're around, do they." It was a statement, not a question. She had worked under him long enough to realize that he considered everything his business – and the more dark and mysterious, the better.

"I let you answer my very personal, very private mail," he retorted, sitting beside her. "It's only fair that I get something in return."

"Fine, you get to answer the next incoherent letter from my Aunt Sue."

He cocked his head towards her. "Do people actually have Aunt Sues? I thought Aunt Sue was the generic family member who belonged to everyone."

She sighed, wearily. "No, I really have an Aunt Sue. And she really does write me incoherent letters that I answer."

"So, how was your day?" he pretended to stare into her eyes, all energized with interest.

She moved to get up. "You know how my day was. You gave me the dying guy. He died. I'm going home."

He started fiddling with his cane. "You didn't ask about my day."

"I know about your day. You got to spend it in the clinic. Where you will be spending more and more days until Cuddy either goes into retirement or you quit." Then she frowned, remembering how earlier he had asked her a question. "Wait, whatever happened to that girl? The one who was raped? Did you end up helping her?"

He smirked a bit but when he spoke, his voice was didn't carry the same tone of sarcasm. "I made a girl cry, Cameron. You would've been proud. Not only did I get to hear her dark secrets but I got to tell a few of my own."

Suddenly she was angry, although she didn't know why. "Well, goodie, goodie for you. All the benefits of therapy without the couch and the notebook. You'll sleep better tonight. God, you are such a jerk." She turned to leave but was stopped by his cane in front of her.

"Trying to trip me, House? That's childish even for you."

"Did someone piss in your cornflakes this morning, Cameron? Where is the little Merry Sunshine that I've come to know and despise?" He leered at her suggestively.

Cameron had never wanted to hurt someone so badly. She could feel the heat on her face and loathed herself for displaying her emotions so openly.

"You'd better get yourself a hooker tonight if you want sunshine," she retorted. "And make sure it is someone who doesn't know you. I can't imagine any hooker, regardless of her circumstances, wanting to service you twice."

She left the room without looking to see what reaction her words had produced on House's face. By the time she got to her locker she was in tears.

'Why do I let him get to me like this?' she wondered silently. She went over the conversation in her mind and was shocked to come to the conclusion that she was jealous. Someone other than her got to hear what went on in House's mind.

'Real mature, Allie, really" she muttered. Reluctantly she got her coat and then went back up to House's office to apologize but he was gone.


	2. The bar

Chapter 2 – The bar

Disclaimer – Sorry that I forgot this in Chapter 1 – but seriously… did anyone, for a moment, suspect that I owned anything to do with House?

A/N – thanks for all the feedback! It's really nice to have. Just a reminder that this story is veering off canon very soon (like probably now) and will deal with some darker subjects. Please read at your own risk!

As had been her pattern for a few weeks now, Cameron started to walk home. She didn't know why she had decided to give up driving to work… but she liked the exercise and it gave her brain more time to power down. She deliberately chose a longer route this particular evening because she was so disgusted with herself for her emotional display in front of House. She walked past a bar – sleazy, smoke-filled, and dark. 'Allie, this matches your mood,' she told herself and went in.

Within about ten minutes she had a crowd of guys around her, offering her drinks and trying to engage her in conversation. Cameron was used to this – she considered it just one of the downsides to being beautiful. After a couple of whiskey sours she knew she had to call it a night. Work would come all too soon the next morning.

"Hey guys," she shouted, trying to make herself heard over the loud music coming from the jukebox. "I gotta go."

A couple of the more sober ones expressed their displeasure but no one tried to stop her. Cameron felt relaxed for the first time in a while. 'That's what I needed,' she told herself as she put on her coat. 'One night without the hospital, House or someone dying.' Her nose turned up at the smell radiating off her jacket – the main reason she had never tried smoking was not because of the health risks. The smell always did her in. She made a mental note to take it into the dry cleaners on her way to work the next morning.

She had just exited the bar and was on her way down the road when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see who was following her but before she had a chance to look, a body slammed her up again the brick wall of a storefront.

"So you think you can get away with anything, bitch, do you?" said a menacing voice into her ear. Cameron didn't have a chance to respond before someone else brought down something hard on her head. Her last thought was surprise that the voice was female.


	3. The ER

Chapter 3– Waking Up

Disclaimer – Does anyone, for a moment, suspect that I owned anything to do with House?

A/N – Dark times ahead – read at your own risk

Was she dreaming? Everything was so hazy… it was dark but she could hear sounds. People talking, the swishing of clothing, a beeping of some sort coming from behind her. She knew she could open her eyes but she was oh so tired. And pain… it seemed to be all around her. It hurt to breathe. She was so cold…

"Dr Cameron? Can you open your eyes?" She didn't recognize the voice of the one speaking but it was calm and soothing. Something about it wanted her to obey. She opened her eyes and found a women dressed in peach scrubs staring down at her. A woman. Suddenly she could feel terror welling up inside her and even though every movement caused her excruciating pain, she had to get away. She curled up on the opposite side of the hospital bed, gripping the metal bar for dear life and trying not to scream.

In the midst of her agony, she could hear murmurs of different voices, some scary and some comforting. She tried to be still, to hear what they were saying but there seemed to be something heavy on her chest, hampering her breathing and she could not hold back her moans.

"Cameron? Allison, can you hear me? Open your eyes, you're safe now." Again she obeyed, more cautiously this time and immediately recognized Foreman's face. She was so grateful for his familiar features. Eric wouldn't hurt her.

"Help…" she tried to get out the words but her throat was so dry that she lapsed into a coughing fit. Foreman picked up a bottle of water from the bedside table and held it up to her lips.

"Not too much," he warned her. She resisted the urge to gulp.

"So cold," she whispered. Within seconds Foreman was back with a blanket. He gently tucked it around her, careful not to touch her.

"Do you feel up to answering some questions?" he asked. He turned around and gestured to a man standing behind him. Cameron knew from the uniform that he was a policeman.

"Sure," she agreed in a gravelly voice.

The policeman stepped forward and cleared his throat nervously. "Good evening, Dr. Cameron, my name is Detective Davison. Can you tell me what you remember from this evening?"

She closed her eyes and concentrated. Why was there a buzzing sound in her head? Why couldn't she focus? And the pain… it seemed to be everywhere. "Um, I think I left the hospital around 8 and went to the bar on the corner of…" She tried to remember the name but it escaped her.

"It's ok," Foreman encouraged. "Just tell him what you do remember."

She tried again. "There were some guys there, I think. They bought me drinks… two drinks. And I said I had to go after about an hour because I had to work the next day. I left and …" Her head was pounding now and she winced from the pain. "I don't remember…"

The policeman finished his notes. "That's all right, Dr. Cameron. You've suffered a concussion and you may not remember everything for a while. I'll be in touch."

"Wait," Cameron tried to reach out to stop him from leaving. "What happened? Why am I here?"

Detective Davison and Foreman exchanged glances and Cameron's eyes went from one to the other. What weren't they telling her?

Foreman seemed to lose whatever battle the two men were fighting because the detective left with a slight smile in Cameron's direction and Foreman pulled up a stool beside Cameron's bed.

"As best as we can tell, you were attacked when you left the bar," he explained, tentatively. "You were hit over the head and that's probably why you can't remember details. You were beaten pretty badly and have some bruised ribs that are blocking your ability to breathe. And…" he stopped and ran a hand over his face.

"Eric," Cameron whispered, knowing that the use of his first name would grab Foreman's attention like nothing else. "Please tell me."

He sighed and grabbed her hand. "You were… invaded. By a pipe." His eyes pleaded for understanding. He didn't want to describe it any further.

Cameron felt panic well up. She could hear a female voice calling her 'bitch' in her mind, over and over. She gasped for breath but there was so much pain.

"Nurse," yelled Foreman, fiddling with her I.V. "I need some help here. Cameron, you need to calm down."

"Hurts," she managed to get out before blissfully she lost consciousness.


	4. Am I delusional?

Chapter 4: Am I delusional?

Disclaimer – not mine, never will be, yada, yada.

A/N – Sorry it's taken me so long to update. There's nothing like illness and the news of cancer in a family member to knock you off-track. But hopefully now that the dust had settled, I'll be more regular as I do know where this story is going (at least at the moment). As I'm doing with all my stories at the moment, I'm begging for a beta – not just for spelling and grammar but also to tell me when my ideas suck or I'm waaaaay off character etc. And to kick my butt! Applications are being taken at I write not only in this fandom but also in The West Wing and Higher Ground (which no one knows but the story is pretty basic). I'd like to expand to other ones later. Ok, enough whining.

A/N 2: **Warning for mature subject matter. Please don't read if you are easily upset by mature and dark themes.**

By the time that Cameron opened her eyes a second time, she could see light fading out her window. She found that she wasn't in as much pain and she didn't have to gasp for every breath. However, when she tried to sit up, something was holding her still. After a moment, she realized that her arms and legs were in restraints.

_I can't move. Someone is holding me down. God, let me go… don't hurt me…_

Her breathing quickened and she tried desperately to free herself from the bed. Suddenly a dark hand came into her sight and gently rested on her right arm, trying to sooth. That almost made things worse until she saw that it was Foreman.

"Cameron, breathe. Come on now, it's safe here. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Please calm down."

With effort she was able to force herself to relax and console herself with the reality that she was with a friend who would never hurt her. When Foreman saw her relax, he undid the restraints and she tried to smile at him.

"Thanks, Foreman. What happened?" She meant _why was I being restrained_ but she hoped that she wouldn't have to ask directly.

Foreman sat down beside her. "You get a little upset whenever a nurse comes in to change your IV or take your vitals. Unfortunately, we only have female nurses on this shift. You don't have the same reaction to men."

"Oh." What could she say to that? She had no memory of any nurses coming in except for at first. She supposed that she had been sedated for the entire day. In an effort to change the subject she asked, "Foreman, what are you doing working in the ER?"

Now Foreman looked away, a bit embarrassed. "Well, I got the idea from Chase working in NICU. Sometimes I need a break from House and I also need some extra money so I pick up a shift here or there. I just happened to be on when you came in so you became my patient."

Cameron eagerly jumped on Foreman's reaction, trying to distance herself from her own situation. "What do you need extra money for?"

Now she knew that Foreman was embarrassed. The lack of eye contact was a dead give-away…

"I want to take Wendy somewhere nice for Valentine's day," he confessed. "My car's needed a lot of repairs lately so I needed the extra cash."

Cameron was confused. "But your shift would've been over sometime this morning. Why are you still here?"

Still no eye contact. "I know we haven't always seen things the same way and sometimes I've been a real asshole to you but we are colleagues and I do care…" he stopped and shuffled his feet a bit, staring at the floor.

Cameron felt a lump in her throat. "I guess I'm pretty emotional anyhow but thanks. I mean it." She tried to stop the tears but they just flowed anyhow.

Foreman gave her a tissue and tactfully looked away while she wiped her face. Then he said, "Are you up to some visitors?"

Cameron decided she would keep the tissue. "Depends on who it is," she admitted. Foreman nodded to let her know that he understood.

"Don't worry, Cuddy's off at a business meeting or something. It's the guys: Chase, Wilson and House."

Cameron couldn't believe her ears. In her head, she could hear the last words she spoke to House and how embarrassed she was 5 minutes later. She had imagined that she would be the last person on earth that House would want to see.

Even not understanding the full extent of her surprise, Foreman reached the correct conclusion. "Yeah, the bastard himself is waiting outside. He's saying something about making sure that the artwork isn't too damaged." He shook his head in disgust.

Cameron had to smile. Over the past 3 years she had learned how to read House and she knew that cracking jokes was his way of showing that he cared. She was amazed that he remembered that situation from so long ago but then he _was_ brilliant.

"He probably just wants to be sure I'm not on better drugs than he is," she explained. "Sure, show them in. Do I look too horrible?"

Foreman studied her face. "No, I think purple and green are your colours. I'll get them."

Within a few seconds, the "boys" as she called them had filed in. Both Wilson and Chase were looking at her with something akin to pity in their eyes and House was looking everywhere but her.

"So I've called this meeting…" Cameron tried to joke. No one smiled. She gave up and let them recite the speeches they had been practicing in the hall.

Wilson: "I'm so sorry, Cameron. Are you in a lot of pain?"

Chase: "You'll do anything to get out of answering House's mail or making coffee. Guess who he picks on now?"

House: Nothing.

After reassuring Wilson and Chase that she didn't feel too bad at the moment and she would be back to her regular chores as soon as possible, she turned her head in some pain to look at her boss. He had moved over to the window and was apparently fascinated with something on the roof of the building across the way. Chase, Wilson and Foreman took the opportunity to make their exits. Foreman had the decency to bend over and whisper to Cameron that a male nurse, Terrence, was going to be assigned to her that night and he would be back in the morning. She smiled, grateful.

The room was emptied and Cameron continued to watch House's back. _Why isn't he saying anything?_ she wondered. _Is he mad about the comments I made to him yesterday? Then why is he here at all? And why do I care so much?_ She gave her head a shake and turned back to her comfortable side and closed her eyes. House might have issues but if he wasn't about to share, she wasn't going to stay awake.

The familiar tap of his cane told Cameron that he had left the window and was now in front of her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and studied his face. Closed off as ever but not mocking or arrogant.

"Is there anyone you want me to call?" he asked, in a gravelly voice.

Stunned, she shook her head. "No, I haven't been close to my family for a long time now and my job doesn't allow me to make friends easily." She winced, wondering if House would take that as a criticism of him but he didn't seem to mind.

He shuffled a bit and then declared, "You'll be discharged soon but you'll be in a lot of pain and will need to stay with someone. Don't let the wombat move in with you. You're coming home with me. Wilson can go back to sleeping on the couch when his next live-in dumps him."

Now Cameron was seriously wondering if the drugs had caused her to become delusional. Who was this person and what had he done with House?

"You don't… um…like me…" was all her mind could come up with.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you home so we can make sweet love all day and all night. I'm your boss, you don't have any family, and I don't have to like you to look after you. I'm a doctor, you're going to be in pain and we might as well share the Vicodin."

Cameron was at a loss. It appeared that he was being truthful and the way she was feeling, she didn't want to be alone. Staying with House would be better than staying with someone of the female persuasion because she still didn't understand why they were causing her panic attacks. _What the heck_, she thought. _If I'm hallucinating I can make other plans tomorrow._

"Ok, that sounds fine," she agreed, sleepily.

He bent over and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled and left the room. Cameron was left feeling like her world had been rearranged.


	5. House not being House

Chapter 5 – Not a Project

A/N: Again, sorry it's taking me so long. Illness etc. Hope this doesn't disappoint!

For Disclaimers, see chapter 2.

_I hurt._

Cameron didn't even need to open her eyes to come to that conclusion. She tried staying very still but that didn't seem to matter – it hurt to breathe.

She opened her eyes gingerly and was surprised to see the grey walls, the machines and the rails on her bed.

_You're in the hospital, Ally. Why?_

She tried desperately to remember what had happened but it seemed like there was a cloud of dense smoke in her brain, preventing her from accessing information. She tried to sit up, despite the pain, but there was something preventing her.

_Restraints_, she told herself. _I'm in restraints. Did I try to hurt myself?_ That didn't sound like her but she was having a hard time remembering who she was so she supposed that she better not dismiss any theory.

A nurse popped her head into Cameron's room. "Oh, good, you're awake," she chirped. She came into the room and started to look over the IVs that were pumping God knows what into Cameron's veins. The proximity of this woman and the smell, _what was that smell?_ caused Cameron's breathing to increase and the pain in her ribs to move up into her throat.

"So many people will be thrilled to know that you are doing this well," the nurse droned on. Cameron let the sound of her voice fade into the background as she tried, desperately, to hold onto what was left of her sanity.

_I can't breathe. I need to make this stop. I can't think, it hurts, get away from me, oh God, please, don't hurt me…"_

"**Get away from me!"** she screamed, finally, interrupting the nurse and her endless monologue. The nurse looked at her in shock.

"Dr Cameron, is something wrong?"

"**Get away from me!" **She struggled against the restraints but couldn't free her hands… she had to be satisfied with banging her head against the metal railing of her bed.

_Stop, stop, stop, stop…_ Thankfully she lapsed into nothingness.

OoOHouseOoO

She had no idea what day or time it was when she opened her eyes next. The ache in her head now matched her chest and she gently tested her arms and legs and found that she was still attached. She licked her dry lips and to her surprise, a straw appeared before her and she was able to take a long drink of water.

"Thank you." she muttered, without looking to see who it was. She was tired of seeing people, tired of her out-of-control responses to them and tired of being sedated. She knew she could attribute the current fogginess in her brain at least partially to whatever was added to her IV. She vaguely remembered a lot of movement the last time she was awake and sure enough, the right side of her head throbbed accordingly.

"You're welcome."

It was a voice that Cameron was not expecting at all and she jerked her head to the left to see if she was right. Sure enough, her boss was sitting beside her bed, legs up and Gameboy in his hands. Cameron waited but there was no change in her breathing and she did not feel the panic rising in her chest. _Typical. Most people have panic attacks around House even when they're not in the hospital. Me – I feel safer. God, grow up, Ally._

"House, what are you doing here?"

House stretched leisurely and then pointed to the Reuben sitting on Cameron's tray. "Coma guy is getting on my nerves. Hates General Hospital and won't shut up about it. I thought I would come and try watching it on your TV instead."

"Great." Cameron turned the other way, embarrassed beyond measure that her boss was in her hospital room while she was in restraints. To her amazement, House got up and gently took her arms and legs out.

"There, now you can run away if you want," he stated, sitting back down and picking up his Gameboy. Cameron flexed her muscles and was surprised that she didn't feel more pain. Sure there were bruises and she refused to let her mind go to why but all in all the pain she felt seemed to be more centered on her torso.

House reached over, grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite. "Sorry, none for you," he teased Cameron. "They won't give you anymore until you stop throwing it up or throwing it at people. You've been a naughty girl so they are going to send someone to straighten you out."

Cameron was frankly sick and tired of every little thing causing her to want to scream with tension. She tried her best to keep her voice from shaking but knew she wouldn't have very much luck deceiving the scrutiny of her boss.

"What do you mean? Who's coming?"

All of a sudden House got serious. Cameron was dubious, knowing House as the master manipulator wasn't sure if she should believe him or not.

"Do you know Dr. Timbers?" At Cameron's nod, he continued, "He's coming to see you in about 30 minutes. Now be nice to him and don't try to strangle him the way you did Dr. Middleton."

Cameron blushed even though she had no memory of Dr. Middleton whatsoever being in her room.

"Dr. Timbers works on the fifth floor," she realized slowly. "That's the psych floor. Why do I have to talk to him?"

"Because, my dear, before you get to star in your own version of "Prison Break", you must convince one of those doctors that you don't hear voices and you're not going to make your first meal aspirin and vodka. And frankly, so far, you haven't been doing such a good job." He slid his legs off her bed, grabbed his sandwich and prepared to leave.

"Wait, House," Cameron stammered. "Can you stay until Dr. Timbers comes?" She hated how pathetic she sounded and she mentally prepared herself for the outburst that was sure to come. House would never let an opportunity to go by without making fun of her for being emotional.

"Sure."

Cameron looked up at him, confused, wondering if perhaps she had misheard the tone in his voice and he **was** mocking her after all. But House simply sat back down, put his legs back up on her bed and continued to play his game, stopping every so often to have a bite of his sandwich.

Cameron snuggled back under the covers until only her nose popped out. She still felt apprehensive about Dr. Timbers but she allowed the beeping of the Gameboy to lull her into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Talk

Chapter 6 – Talk

Disclaimer in Chapter 2

"Dr Cameron?" A slight man with thinning brown hair and a tired face entered her room. House immediately got up and whispered to Cameron,

"I think this is my cue to exit." Cameron was torn. She really wanted House, a familiar face to stay with her but on the other hand, maybe it would be easier to talk to a doctor without worrying about someone else's reaction. She watched House go and then turned her attention to Dr Timbers.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, scribbling on a clipboard. Cameron saw the weariness in his face and how his hand shook when he wrote and she wondered if maybe she should be asking that question. But always polite, she answered,

"I'm doing much better now, thank you. I can breathe without any pain and sit up if someone helps me."

Dr Timbers cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm glad that you are feeling better physically but I was inquiring about your emotional health."

Cameron was puzzled. "My emotional health?"

Dr Timbers leaned forward to ensure that Cameron had his full attention. "You've been through a terrible ordeal. You were attacked by a group of assailants who literally beat you up. You were raped by a foreign object so severely that you had to undergo surgery and now you are faced with the possibility that you might never bear children, you seem to have no family support, females appear to trigger terror within you and you face many weeks of healing. How are you coping with all that?"

Cameron felt the same panic, the same inability to draw a deep breath return. Surgery? Barrenness? _Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this? Why don't I remember? What's wrong with me?_

Dr Timbers was still staring at her, waiting for a response. _I've got to get him to leave. I need to think about this stuff. How do I convince him I'm fine?_

Taking a deep breath, Cameron lied. "You know, being a doctor has really helped me through this entire ordeal. During my emergency room rotation, I saw a lot of trauma victims and I watched professionals dealing with them. I'm not going to rush this – I know I don't have family but I have great friends who will let me laugh and cry. I'll be fine."

Dr Timbers shuffled in his seat. "I'll be honest with you, Dr. Cameron. Physicians make the worst patients. Just because you know intellectually how this experience is going to affect you physically and emotionally, doesn't mean that you're going to be able to handle it yourself with only friends. You will need professional support. If you don't have any objections, I would like to admit you to the mental health ward for at least a week so we can monitor you."

Cameron winced. It wasn't that she was afraid of the fifth floor or felt there was some sort of stigma about staying there. But she had been there before and left with an overpowering sense of sadness. As the men and women shuffled from group to group, from activity to activity, to the TV room, to the art room, to the dining room until bedtime, it all seemed so hopeless.

"Dr. Timbers, I would feel differently if I had a diagnosed mental illness that was long term and needed specific treatment. But I'm sure I'm going to be fine over time and I'm willing to wait it out." Then she played her trump card. "A friend has already offered to take me in and he has a medical degree." She prayed that Dr. Timbers wouldn't jump to the correct assumption that her "friend" was actually her boss and she wasn't quite sure how he planned on "taking care of her."

Dr. Timbers sighed and handed her a card. "This is a therapist that works only with women in your situation. You could see her privately or she runs several groups that could be a support to you. I've talked to Dr. Cuddy and she's agreed that getting in touch with Marianne is an excellent idea and beneficial before you return to work."

_I suppose that means seeing Marianne is non-negotiable. I think I'll let House handle that one. He managed to get himself out of drug rehab pretty quickly after Cuddy lied for him on the stand._

She smiled at the older man, like she used to smile at her teachers when she was a couple of days late with an assignment. "Seeing someone is probably an excellent idea once I remember what happened."

He either didn't catch the insinuation or he was late for another appointment. "Ok, great. And please remember that my door is always open for my colleagues. I think Dr. Foreman will be by shortly to release you. Do you have someone to take you home?"

"Oh yes," Cameron assured him. House should be easy to find. All she needed to do was search the clinic for closed doors and electronic beeping.


	7. Pick it Up

Sorry for the long delay… health issues once again. Bah, humbug to that. Thank you for all the wonderful comments I've received about this story, my first one in the "House" universe. I know it's a well-used plot device but hopefully the twists will keep it fresh.

**Let me say again – I own nothing that has anything to do with the TV show. But the other characters are MINE!!!**

Before Cameron really had time to process all the new information she had just received, Foreman was there, checking her vitals, giving her prescriptions and written instructions.

"I know you're a doctor," he smiled, "but I'm obligated to give you the same level of care I would give a sanitation worker."

Cameron did not return his smile. "Eric," she began slowly, deliberately using his first name to show she was serious. "Why didn't you tell me that I had surgery? And that the damage was severe?" She meant to say more but her throat had closed over and she was afraid she might cry.

Foreman suddenly became very fascinated with the floor. "I'm sorry, Allison. I know it was wrong to keep you in the dark about everything that happened," he admitted. "It seemed like the right thing to do at first because you weren't remembering what was happening and we didn't want to confuse you. And, yes, I'll be honest, the longer we didn't tell you, the harder it was to bring up the subject. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"So everything Dr. Timbers said is true?" Cameron tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly grown in her throat.

Foreman nodded. Finally he raised his head to look Cameron in the eyes. "You're going to get through this, Allison. We're going to ensure that you do." Then he turned business-like again. "House wants me to discharge you right away because Cuddy gave him permission to drive you home and take the rest of the day off. Now, you always have the option of making him suffer and waiting until the end of my shift."

Cameron smiled weakly. "No, I think getting House out of here would be the nicest thing I could do for this hospital."

"You're probably right about that." He gestured to the end of the bed. "I picked out some lovely blue scrubs for you to wear since they took your clothes for evidence. Do you want me to call a nurse to help you change?"

The thought made Cameron's skin crawl. "No, I'll be fine," she lied. Foreman gave her an encouraging smile and left the room.

Cameron stared at the end of the bed and mentally cursed herself for pretending to be strong. Even with the amazing pain pills Foreman had her on, she knew that taking off her hospital gown and putting on scrubs would be excruciating. But worse than that, she feared a female presence in the room. Now that she was no longer in the ER, there were no more male nurses and she still couldn't stop the irrational fear that welled up inside her when she saw a female. She slowly tried to sit up and the pain in her ribs and back brought tears to her eyes. Still, she determinately stood and reached behind her to pull the gown over her head. It took three attempts and she was openly sobbing by the time she got it off but she managed. Her gaze fell on the blue scrubs and she wondered how in the world she was going to get into them when raising her legs and her arms caused her to lose her breath. Couldn't she go home naked?

Interrupting her thoughts was the sound of a door opening and the tap of a cane. Cameron had her back to him but couldn't stop her face changing into four different shades of red.

"Wow," said a gravelly voice behind her. "Usually I have to pay good money to see sights as marvelous as the one before me."

Cameron sighed in resignation. She should have guessed that House would rush upstairs from the clinic for the chance to leave early. She took a deep breath and decided to go with the inevitable.

"House, I need your help to get dressed." Then she inwardly cringed waiting for the biting sarcasm to rip her to shreds.

To her amazement, House didn't make a sound. He grabbed the scrubs and then sat on the bed to hold the pants while Cameron painfully took her time sliding her legs in. He pulled them up and then waited patiently for her to raise her arms so he could slip on the top. She noticed that his eyes were constantly moving but not in a predatory sort of way. It was the expression he used when he was afraid to show any emotion; 99 of the time the next words out of his mouth were truthful and sometimes a little touching.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked softly. When she nodded, he left the room briefly, to bring in a wheelchair.

"House, no, I can walk," protested Cameron.

"Sure, and if you fall, you're going to expect the cripple to pick you up. Now how realistic do you think that is?" When Cameron rolled her eyes at him, he offered, "I'll let you carry my cane." Cameron reluctantly allowed House to help her into the wheelchair and took the cane. House began to sing "We're off to see the wizard" as he navigated the hallways and elevator. Cameron tried to ignore the curious looks of the patients but when co-workers started crowding around her, offering their best wishes, giving her what they thought were comforting hugs and pats on the arm, she started to panic. She could no longer distinguish between individual people; the hands were everywhere. There was nowhere for her to go; she was trapped in a chair but wait, she had a piece of wood in her hands and she lashed out with it. Make it stop, she pleaded, silently.

The next thing she remembered she was out in the parking lot without the cane. House was chortling as he helped her into his car. "You are amazing once you get going. I've been waiting for years to put that noisy nurse, Valerie, in her place and you did it with one swing. Did you play baseball in high school?"

Cameron had no idea what House was talking about, but she did make a decision. She was not going to stay with anyone, least of all House, with his prying eyes and insatiable interest in anything that didn't concern him. If she was losing her mind, she wanted to do it where there were no witnesses. Quickly, she put her plan into action.

"House, we're going to my place, right?" she asked tentatively. He made a face.

"Did you suddenly get TIVO and a piano when I wasn't listening to the gossip in the conference room?"

"No, but I'm not going to wear scrubs for the rest of my life and I doubt very much you keep anything resembling shampoo or conditioner in your bathroom?"

House exaggerated his sigh. "The stereotypical woman. Needs 10 different outfits and 4 varieties of body wash for a week's stay anywhere. Fine, we'll stop at your place first."

Cameron gave him a small smile. "Thank you, House. We'll have to see the landlady first because I have no key but it won't take long. She's expecting us."

True to her word, it didn't take Cameron long to get a new apartment key. House insisted coming with her even though she protested that she could handle it alone.

"How are you going to be able to carry things?" he asked, pointedly. "I may have a bum leg but you have a bum body so I win."

Cameron decided that this was the time to tell House about the change of plans.

"House, I really appreciate the offer you made to have me stay at your place. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea but I'm feeling better now and I need my space." She forced a laugh. "After nurses and doctors coming and going at all hours, I have to be alone."

House's face didn't change and he appeared to be thinking very hard. Cameron grew uncomfortable and started to turn the key in the lock.

"Give it to me."

Cameron looked at him in surprise. He made a gesture to emphasize his words.

"I'll let you stay here alone if you give me the key."

Cameron gave in and handed it to him. House dropped it on the floor.

"There. Pick that up and I'll leave you alone."

Cameron looked down at the key and despite her best efforts to keep them at bay, tears began to fill her eyes. House knew how much pain she went through just to put on scrubs and that was with help. There was no way she could bend over and pick it up.

"Okay, you made your point," she said with some anger. "I still need to pack some stuff so give me the key."

House went down on his left knee and picked it up. Cameron's hand moved to take it but House held on until Cameron's head came up and she was looking him in the eyes.

"I know I'm a bastard," he said, softly, "but this time I'm telling you the truth. You are going to get through this." Then he let go and Cameron was able to look away before House could see she was crying.


	8. Free Ticket to Snoop

**A/N: **_**As with all the stories I'm presently working on, I dedicate this one to my grandmother. Jean Cunningham Moore Grant passed away on her 90**__**th**__** birthday, November 20, 2007 after a brave struggle against pancreatic cancer. She was an inspiration to all who knew her because she didn't see the difficulties in her life as insurmountable – they were challenges and ultimately they made her into a wise and compassionate woman. Grandma, thank you for all you meant to me and I miss you so much.**_

Cameron thought that she had endured the most humiliating part of the day but she had underestimated the effect of having House in her apartment. Sure he had been there before but only hovered in the doorway. Now he was wandering around her living room, eyes scanning for any interesting tidbit of information that he could possibly discover.

"House!" Cameron practically shouted to get his attention. Even then he only looked over at her for a second before going back to his perusal of her walls. "I don't need anything out of this room. Let's go to the bedroom…" she limped her way over to him and tried to pull on his arm without jarring her ribs "where we will find a suitcase and my clothing."

At the word 'clothing', House's eyes brightened and he willingly accompanied Cameron into her blue and white bedroom. He didn't hesitate for a moment, but went right to her dresser and started opening drawers one after another.

"House, what are you doing?" Cameron tried to keep the impatience out of her voice but she was in pain and just wanted to get the packing over with.

"Looking for your underwear," he said, practically salivating. "You're going to need a lot of it unless you can somehow coerce somebody to do laundry for you. And since you're feeling down, I think you should wear the sexiest stuff you've got. Gives a girl a lift, you know." He turned and leered at her.

Cameron knew she should be annoyed at her boss's juvenile behaviour but she couldn't deny how nice it felt to have things back to normal. House acting like a sex-starved teenager was how things should be and she tried in vain to suppress a small smile at his antics. If she was truly honest with herself, back when she harboured a crush on him, his blatant remarks about Cuddy's _attributes_ made her jealous because she knew that she couldn't compete with big breasts or a curvy ass. She was pleased in a perverse sort of way to think that House was fantasizing about her underwear.

House, not finding what he was looking for, gave up on the drawers, and was disappearing into her closet. He triumphantly emerged with an overnight bag and then dived in again. Cameron settled herself on her bed and absent-mindedly picked up the stuffed bear that was lying on her pillow and stroked it soothingly. This time House came out with a box and Cameron realized to her dismay that he had found something that just might feed into his insatiable need to know everyone's secrets.

"Ah, House, I don't need anything out of there either," she scolded. "Why are you avoiding things like clothes and soap – things that I might actually use in the next little while?"

"Hey, I was all for sexy underwear," he pointed out. "Except it doesn't appear that you own any – something you might want to fix the next time you have an overnight guest. There's nothing interesting about track suits and polar wear so I'm digging a bit deeper." He held the box up to his ear and rattled it. "Now," he whispered to it, "what do you have within you that Cameron doesn't want me to see?"

"PUT. IT. BACK." Her voice didn't waver and she mentally awarded herself points. The days of House walking all over her were over. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell House.

He set the box on the bed and eagerly dove in. Cameron could only watch as he pulled out pages and pages of music.

"Hey, I didn't know that you could play the piano." He looked at her accusingly, as if she had committed a carnal sin.

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Just because you play the piano, doesn't mean that everyone does," she retorted. "I used to play the organ. As in, I did at one time but I do not any longer."

He scoffed. "An organ is just a piano with more pedals. And if you don't play anymore, why do you have all of this music?"

"I take it that you have a different sort of mother then? One that doesn't send you things from home in a lame attempt to remake you into the person you used to be?" Immediately, she regretted her words because they just flamed House's interest.

"So your mother has a vested interest in you playing the organ," he mused. He sat on the bed now and put the music to one side. "The most common place you hear an organ is in a church. But you are an atheist – albeit the most self-righteous atheist I've ever met. So I think we can safely deduce that you weren't always an atheist and you have a mother who wishes that you had stayed that way. How close am I?"

Cameron didn't even dignify his deduction with a remark. "If we're finished playing "Who was Allison Cameron", can we please move on to "Let's pack Dr. Cameron's clothes and get out of here"? I'm hungry and I'm in pain and I want to lie down."

House dove back into the box and pulled out notebooks. "Now I've hit the jackpot. Are these old journals, Allison? Tales of your sordid past in written form?"

Cameron had had enough. "House, if you don't stop snooping and start packing, I'm going to summon what strength I have left in my body and beat you senseless with your own cane. You remember earlier today? That could be you." There was a catch in her voice and she hated it but she couldn't take one more minute of House ripping her open and exploring her insides. House seemed to realize that he had pushed her as far as he could because he silently repacked the box and put it back in the closet. This time he was holding clothes when he emerged.

"I assume we're going for casual," he said with mock sorrow on his face. "No need for sexy dresses or powersuits during recovery, right?"

"Right." Cameron settled back on her headboard, relaxing a bit until a twinge in her chest forced her upright again. House caught the look of pain that appeared on her face and limped over to her.

"What did Stone-Cold give you for pain?" Cameron looked at him puzzled and he impatiently explained, "Reference. From General Hospital. An appropriate way to refer to Dr. Foreman. We really must do something about your lack of TV watching in the next few weeks."

"I have a prescription for acetaminophen with codeine and some samples of Toradol."

House made a face. "Well, I think you got screwed but it wasn't my call, was it? Where's the Toradol?"

Cameron still had her coat on, so she felt both pockets and pulled out a bottle. House picked up his cane and got her a drink of water from the kitchen. As he passed her the glass, their hands touched briefly and Cameron was embarrassed at how nice it felt to have someone touch her for non-life-saving reasons. She quickly swallowed a pill and gave the glass back.

"Shut your eyes," House ordered, gruffly. "I'll pack some sensible cotton underwear and some smelly bath products and we'll get out of here. If we hurry, we'll be able to catch General Hospital and I'll start your education."

Cameron did as he ordered, again feeling embarrassed at how wonderful it felt to be looked after. She sternly warned herself not to expect House to last in his nursemaid role and the easing of her pain lolled her into sleep.

**A/N2: **_**My grandmother was a church organist for 65 years so I've decided to incorporate it into Cameron's story.**_


End file.
